


can i be him?

by lilcrickee



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilcrickee/pseuds/lilcrickee
Summary: or, four boys who tried to get into leon's pants and the one who actually did.





	can i be him?

**Author's Note:**

> several thank-yous are in order. to angie, who started this all by telling me how thirsty sasha is for leon. thanks to my wonderful twitter tl who gave me plenty of info on darnell nurse that didn't make it into this story at all. and thanks to gigantic for looking this over and leaving me cute comments on the gdoc! ♥♥
> 
> title is from james arthur's song of the same title.

**Nick Merkley - 2015**

Leon Draisaitl is a rental player. The cream of the crop, too good for this league, too pure. 

Well, not too pure because his body is particularly sinful and Nick is seventeen and easily excitable. 

The team is happy to have Leon. Nick can hear the hushed chatter, the whispers about the hype. Hamilton wouldn’t have traded two players and a pick if Leon weren’t the real deal. He wouldn’t have made the trade if he didn’t think the Rockets were going to make a real push this year, and that’s almost as exciting as getting a player who has real live NHL experience.

Leon rolls in on a Tuesday, looking soft and European and _hot_. 

“Your face is sort of unfairly beautiful,” Tyrell says earnestly to Leon, which is mostly what Nick was thinking but couldn’t make himself say.

Leon smiles, small and a little shy. “I like your tattoos,” is what he replies with, and Nick watches with envy as Tyrell holds court at one end of the dressing room, showing off the ink on his arms.

Coach puts Leon on a line with Nick, and for a moment, Nick feels a little faint. Maybe because all the blood in his body has suddenly rushed to his dick. Nick tries to subtly adjust his cup without anyone seeing. By the shit-eating grin on Doobs’ face, he’s unsuccessful. 

But playing with Leon is easy. He makes everything look easy. Nick sets him up for a nice one-timer at the end of practice, and when Leon slings an arm over his shoulder, Nick’s surprised his knees don’t buckle. 

“Bows says this is your draft year,” Leon says, checking Nick into the boards lightly. “You are good.”

Nick opens his mouth to say thanks. What comes out instead is, “Oh my gosh you’re really hot.”

Leon’s mouth quirks and Nick wants a swift end to the most painfully awkward moment of his life. Maybe he can disappear into the wilderness and become a hermit. A hockey-playing hermit. Gats says there’s bears in Kelowna; Nick can become a bear whisperer.

“Thanks,” Leon says. He still looks amused. “You have a nice smile.”

He skates back towards the others, bumps Bows and Tyrell amicably, pats Doobs on the helmet. It’s nice that he’s fitting in, Nick thinks faintly as he trails after, face still impossibly hot. They’ve got a long ways to go to the Memorial Cup.

x

They pick up Chance Braid a few days later, and then they’re off to the races. Nick goes to the Top Prospects game and rubs elbows with the best of the best. The Rockets win and they win and they win.

All things told, Nick doesn’t spend a lot of time with Leon. Leon finds his own group of friends on the team, and Nick has his, and that’s fine. It’s not like they never talk. They’re lineys. Talking is required.

Nick just wishes that they could have a conversation without feeling like he’s in danger of popping a boner at any given time.

x

The night they win the Dub, they all pile into Bows’ billets’ basement and drink until there’s nothing left to be drunk. Nick doesn’t think he’s ever consumed so much alcohol. He’s not even entirely sure where the floor is.

“You’re sitting on it,” Tyrell leers from the other side of the loose circle they’ve made. There’s only a few of them left awake ( _alive_ , Nick thinks. Doobs is drooling on his shoulder a little, passed out completely), and Tyson had wanted to play truth or dare. It had seemed like the practical thing to do.

“Merks,” Tyrell slurs. Nick’s not entirely sure how he’s still functional. “I dare you to kiss Leon.”

Nick’s brain shuts down for approximately half a second. “I didn’t pick dare,” he says. “I didn’t pick anything. It wasn’t my turn.”

Tyrell shrugs and slumps against Bows next to him. “I still dare you to kiss Leon.”

Leon, for his part, looks largely unaffected by this request. He’s whispering something in Braider’s ear, giggling quietly. Nick feels his heart thump loudly in his chest.

“It’s kind of up to Leon,” Nick says finally. “I won’t kiss him if he doesn’t want me to.”

Braider nudges Leon in the side, and Leon finally looks up, makes eye contact with Nick. His smile is soft and sweet. “I would not say no to you, Merks,” he says. It’s a joke, Nick knows, but wow. He’s into that. 

Leon shuffles over because Doobs is still sleeping on Nick and sure, Nick’s about to kiss the hottest dude ever but he’s not a bad friend. Besides, he won’t be the one complaining about a sore neck tomorrow. When Leon’s close enough for Nick to feel his breath against his cheek, Leon whispers, “Relax,” and then leans in and kisses him.

It’s a pretty tame kiss, all things being equal, but Nick still thinks it may be the best kiss of his life. He hopes he’ll be sober enough in the morning to remember it.

x

Nick is unfortunately very sober the next morning. Sober and hungover. He never wants to see another alcoholic beverage ever again. He’ll live his life without.

It’s almost one in the afternoon before Nick can make himself get up off the floor of Bows’ basement. Someone had thoughtfully given him a pillow and a blanket the night before, but Nick doesn’t recall who. He also doesn’t know where Doobs went, considering the last Nick remembered of him he’d been sleeping _on_ Nick.

Most of the guys are huddled around Bows’ kitchen table. His billet mom is pushing a frighteningly large amount of eggs around a pan when Nick wanders in, looking for a glass of water.

“Oh, honey,” she says sympathetically, and Nick tries to ignore all the snickering he can hear from the guys at the table.

The only spot left is directly across from Leon, and Nick sinks down into it while trying not to blush. He doesn’t think he succeeds.

“So, Merks,” Bows says, leaning across the table. He looks pleased. “Did you have a good night last night?”

“Uh - “ Nick begins, and then promptly shuts his mouth. The guys laugh.

“Oh, leave the poor boy alone,” Bows’ billet says, depositing the pan of eggs and several plates on the table. “You’re terrible, sometimes, Madison.”

There’s entirely too much noise at the table after that, especially considering they’re all hungover as fuck, but Nick’s glad to have the heat taken off him. He methodically powers through a plate of eggs and tries not to make eye contact with Leon.

Nick’s billet mom texts him and tells him that she’ll come and collect him mid-afternoon. By the time she arrives, he feels marginally more alive, but when Leon stops him at the door with a hand on his shoulder, Nick feels like maybe he’ll die all over again.

“Merks,” Leon says, and Nick feels his cheeks heat up.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Nick says, trying to shove his feet into his shoes without breaking eye contact. “Um, about last night?”

Leon waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, but then he frowns. “But, uh, I have a boyfriend. So.”

He shrugs, and Nick thinks that if his cheeks get even hotter his entire head will just burst into flames. 

“Oh,” he says. His voice sounds embarrassingly high. “Sorry! I didn’t know. Will he be upset?”

Leon quirks him a small smile. “No,” he says. “But I realized afterwards that maybe you were getting - led on. And that’s not what I intended.”

Maybe Leon really is too pure for this world.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Nick says. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good,” Leon says. He pulls Nick in for a quick hug. “You’re a good kid, Merks.”

He leaves Nick standing in the middle of Bows’ front entry, surrounded by scattered pairs of shoes, and for the first time, Nick feels like maybe he’ll be capable of having a normal conversation with Leon the next time he sees him.

 

**Sasha Barkov - 2015**

By the time Sasha meets Leon Draisaitl, he’s been around the block a couple of times. He’s met the beautiful people of Miami, has seen more skimpy bikinis in two years than he’d seen his whole life prior. Florida doesn’t have the monopoly of hot girls in North America (because Sasha’s been all around there too), but damn. They sure are beautiful.

He’s sitting down in the back of a board room for the annual European NHLPA meeting, when Leon shuffles in looking soft and sleepy and. Hot. Beautiful. Like a ray of sunshine. He puts every single half-naked, bikini-clad beach-goer Sasha’s seen since he moved to Sunrise to shame.

“Can I sit here?” Leon asks. His English is only slightly accented, which makes Sasha feel embarrassed about how rough-and-tumble his own sounds in comparison. Instead of replying, he grunts and nods, and Leon sinks into the seat just as the meeting begins.

His father asks him what they discussed that day and Sasha honestly can’t remember a single word that came out of Henrik Zetterberg’s mouth. Or maybe it was Henrik Sedin? In which case, it could have been Daniel Sedin instead. 

What Sasha does remember is the spicy, barely-there scent of Leon’s cologne, the way his hair fell _just so_ over his forehead, like there wasn’t enough gel in it. He remembers the soft smile on Leon’s face when he’d checked his phone during the intermission, like there was something amusing on the screen. Sasha wonders what it would be like to have that smile directed at him.

He manages to hold off on following Leon on Instagram until after the meetings are over. In fact, he waits an entire week, when he’s sure that Leon’s gone back to Germany. He watches the blue follow button turn to the grey following, and doesn’t spend the rest of the day obsessively checking his phone to see if Leon followed him back.

It’s not like Sasha would be bothered by it if he didn’t. He probably said five words to Leon across both days of meetings. But three days later, Sasha gets a notification that _drat_29 is now following you on Instagram!_ and almost falls off the stationary bike.

There’s nothing really exciting on Leon’s feed. A bunch of pictures from when his junior team won the WHL championship, a smattering of pictures from when he was called up to the Oilers at the beginning of the season. There is, however, one photo of Leon sitting poolside with another guy, shirtless and nonchalant and as hot as they come. Sasha feels himself blush.

The other guy is a teammate and not really worth a second glance, in Sasha’s opinion. Looks like a typical hockey body, and Sasha’s seen enough of those. Leon’s got abs though. And a nice beard. Nicer than anything Sasha can grow, which is unfair considering Leon’s younger than him.

Sasha closes the app and starts pedaling on the bike again before his trainer comes back and asks him why he’s not working. Hopefully he can claim the flush in his cheeks is from the exertion and not the memory of what Leon’s body looks like in Sasha’s standard Miami setting.

x

It takes him another week to gather up the courage to follow Leon on Twitter. There’s even less there than on his Instagram, but that’s typical of hockey players. Sasha doesn’t know any player that uses Twitter prolifically, except maybe Lou, but he doesn’t count because he always denies that the account is his even though everyone knows the truth.

Twitter, Sasha has learned, is the main means of communicating with someone that you don’t know very well but want to get to know very well. Leon’s faster to follow back, and Sasha pretends it’s because Leon was waiting for him. Maybe he’s shy and doesn’t want to make the next move.

 _it was nice to meet you at the players meeting,_ Sasha sends to Leon’s direct messages and then makes himself a sandwhich for lunch. When he looks at his phone again, Leon’s replied.

_nice to meet u 2. see you on the ice!!_

If Sasha walks around with a bounce in his step the rest of the day, no one needs to know why.

x

They chat every couple of weeks, mostly because Sasha finds things that might be relevant to Leon: restaurant recommendations; which bars in which cities won’t card; general hockey talk. It’s probably all stuff Leon can get from his teammates, but Sasha doesn’t care because Leon always replies and he’s always polite about it.

It makes Sasha feel bad about creeping Leon’s photos, makes him feel like a perv, honestly, but he can’t help it. Leon’s unfairly attractive and Sasha is - not. Sasha’s tired of staring at his own face; staring at Leon’s is no hardship.

It’s all going fine, right up until the first week of August, just before Sasha’s slated to fly back to Florida to get ready for training camp. That’s when Sasha fucks it all up.

They’re back to talking about bars in America that will let them drink without ID when Leon brings up one in Los Angeles that every team seems to frequent when they play the Kings. Sasha remembers it only because he’d managed to get a leggy blonde bombshell to go back to the hotel with him that night.

 _the girls are pretty there_ , he writes and then - in an act of insanity - adds, _you’d fit right in._

Sasha hits send and then collapses onto the ground in a dramatic heap. Did he just say that? He checks his phone and then recoils because there it is in stark black and white: his confession.

He’s still lying on the floor when Leon replies. The chime of his phone tells Sasha the message is there, but he’s almost afraid to look. When his phone chimes again, Sasha picks it up.

 _hahahahaha_ , is the first message, which is fine. Sasha can handle being laughed at. That’s easy to brush off.

The second message reads, _i’m flattered, but i have a boyfriend._

Sasha drops his phone on his face.

Leon Draisaitl has a boyfriend. Sasha has been making a fool of himself for the past two months and it’s all for nothing. There will be no swift ride off into the sunset, no staring longingly at each other across the ice. Leon is officially off limits, and Sasha feels both relieved and heartbroken.

On autopilot he writes, _haha didn’t mean anything by it dude, but cool. congrats._ He wonders if it sounds too much like _no homo!_ but like before, his insanity takes over and the message is sent before he can review it.

All Leon sends back is a thumbs up emoji, and Sasha closes Twitter once he’s received it. He flips his phone over in his hands a few times, then turns it off. Then he goes to bed.

x

A week later, Sasha unfollows Leon on Instagram. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his embarrassments.

 

**Darnell Nurse - 2015/2016**

Darnell gets called up to Edmonton nine games into his season in Bakersfield, and he doesn’t think anything could feel better than this. Leon meets him at the airport because he’s a good bro and because he’d mostly been complaining to Darnell about how lonely it is living in a hotel by himself.

“How long do you think before we can start looking for a place together?” Darnell asks, and Leon looks so stricken that he feels a little bad about it.

“You’ll jinx it,” Leon scolds, weaving his rental car through traffic. He’s probably the only guy Darnell knows that opted for a reasonable soccer-mom style car instead of a huge four-by-four. When he brings it up, Leon scowls.

“We don’t have big trucks like that in Germany,” he says. “I used to drive my billet’s in Kelowna sometimes and I did not like it much.”

Which, fair. Darnell grew up riding in the passenger seat of his dad’s pickup truck. He’s not sure he’d like having to bum around in a sedan if he didn’t have to. Sometimes it surprises him how different he and Leon are, despite all the similarities they share.

“Anyway, don’t you feel classier,” Leon continues, oblivious to Darnell’s thought process. The smile Leon flashes him is halfway between _Disney prince_ and _Bond girl_. Darnell’s insides turn to goo, unexpectedly.

“When I’m with you?” he asks, the words floating out of his mouth without his permission. “Always.”

x

Darnell’s crushed on boys before. Just little things, though, and never a teammate. His crush on Leon isn’t even that big, just a huge appreciation for the man’s face. And chest. And butt. 

Besides, he’s too busy playing _real NHL hockey_ to focus too much on Leon’s everything. Leon’s playing good hockey too, though, and by the time the holiday break rolls around Chiarelli is telling them that they’re staying and to get their butts out of the hotel because it’s costing the organization to house them there.

“Roomies?” Darnell asks. He’d been planning on going back home for the break but if they need to find a place to live, he might as well stay. 

Leon hums. He’s texting someone intently, and Darnell wonders if he’s cancelling plans too. He’d thought that Leon would’ve just been sticking around because there was no way he was going to fly back to Germany, but maybe there was someone else. Oops.

“That’s fine,” Leon says finally, putting his phone in his pocket. He waves at Connor as he bounces out the locker room door, leaving just Leon and Darnell left. Darnell tries not to watch the way Leon bites his lower lip.

“Well,” Darnell says, drawing his eyes back up to Leon’s. “Let’s get looking.”

x

In the end, they hire a realtor and she finds them a nice three bedroom with a view of the grey city and a huge living room that they can set up an Xbox in. It’s pretty ideal, and Darnell thinks that living with Leon’s going to be easy. It’s going to be a blast.

Two things derail that train of thought.

First: it means that Darnell gets to see Leon in various stages of undress, wandering around the apartment. Normally, half-naked men are a norm in Darnell’s life. That’s what happens when the locker room is like an extension of his home, but it’s different with Leon. Because Leon doesn’t strip off his gear and then immediately get dressed again. No. He wanders around the kitchen with a cup of yogurt and no shirt on after a workout in the building’s facility on the second floor. Or he wanders out to the living room in an old t-shirt and his underwear after a night out with the guys. It’s all very distracting for Darnell, who’s trying to get over crushing on his teammate because that way can only lie madness and Darnell needs to focus so he doesn’t get sent back to Bakersfield next season.

Second: Leon is a nice roommate (besides the lack of clothing), but he’s ... sad. Darnell can see it as the season wears on, the tightness in Leon’s shoulders, the ever-persistent frown. Connor’s talked to him in the locker room, and Leon’s lightened up a bit since, but at home he’s still the same mopey ball of cute. Like a kicked puppy or something.

The only time Leon seems to look marginally more relaxed is when he’s texting a certain someone, or he’s just emerged from his bedroom after a phone call or a Facetime or whatever with - probably - the same certain someone. Darnell can put two and two together, so unless it’s Leon’s mom, it’s probably a girl.

And that pretty much kills his crush dead in its tracks.

(Well, not _dead_. Darnell’s a good guy, but he’s only human and Leon is devastatingly good looking.)

Regardless of the condition of his crush, Darnell thinks he’s a pretty good friend and roommate, so after one particularly rough loss he pushes Leon down onto their couch, hands him his favourite flavour of Gatorade and says, “So. Want to talk about your long distance relationship that makes you so sad all the time?”

It’s a good thing that Leon didn’t open his drink because Darnell has no idea how to get purple Gatorade out of the white rug under the coffee table from the spit take Leon surely would have done. Instead, he just stares at Darnell, wide-eyed and guilty looking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but it’s a weak retort. Darnell grew up with two ultra-competitive sisters. He knows how to work a secret out of someone like squeezing toothpaste from the tube. 

“C’mon, dude. I won’t tell anyone,” he says, offering Leon what he hopes is a sincere smile. “You just seem really down since Christmas and I want to make sure it’s not the fact that you moved in with me.”

Which - Darnell hadn’t actually put a lot of thought into but now that he thinks about it … Did Leon catch him perving one morning when Leon came in wearing nothing but criminally tight boxer-briefs? Or did Darnell suddenly develop a sleep-talking habit and say something? Was his crush written all over his face?

Leon, at least, looks a little stricken. “No, no,” he says, patting Darnell on the knee. “Not at all. I like living with you, Nursey.”

Oh good. Darnell exhales, but it comes out noisy, like he got socked in the gut.

“I did not mean to worry you about that,” Leon says, shaking his head a little. “I was supposed to see - we were supposed to spend the break together and then I stayed here instead.”

It’s not something that Darnell should feel guilty over, but somehow he does. They’d needed somewhere to live, but considering they got the realtor to do it for them, Leon could’ve gone off somewhere for the break with his girl. 

“Sorry, dude,” he says, scooting closer on the couch and throwing his arm over Leon’s shoulders. Leon sets his unopened bottle of Gatorade on the coffee table and tucks himself into Darnell’s side. “Where does she live? Is it too far to travel? Or like, does she not get any time off school or work or whatever?”

Leon laughs, but it’s humourless. Hollow and empty. It’s so sad sounding Darnell wants to cry a little.

“He lives in Nova Scotia,” Leon says quietly. He won’t meet Darnell’s eye when he says it, like maybe he’s afraid to see Darnell’s reaction. “He goes to school there, plays on the hockey team, so it’s hard for him to take time off. The break was the only time we were going to see each other until after the season’s over. I just - I miss him a lot.”

Oh. _He_. It suddenly makes sense why Leon will take everyone’s chirps and never defend himself. How he’s never told anyone much about his significant other except that they met when Leon was sixteen. Leon’s living out a fairytale, but with a prince instead of a princess.

“Thanks for trusting me,” Darnell says and then squeezes Leon’s shoulder, for lack of something better to do. Saying _sorry_ isn’t really enough, so Darnell settles on, “Tell me about him?”

Leon turns his head a little. “Really?” he asks, sounding small and hopeful. This is maybe the final blow that kills Darnell’s crush, but it’s fine. Plenty more fish in the sea.

“Totally,” Darnell says. “You said he plays hockey. Is that how you met?”

Leon sits up, scrutinizes Darnell for a moment, and then starts in on the story. The longer he talks, the more he lights up, and by the time Darnell knows everything there is to know about Leon’s boyfriend, it’s past two in the morning and they have to go to bed if they want to wake up in time for practice.

“Hey,” Leon says, as they walk down the hallway towards their bedrooms. He stops Darnell with a hand on his arm and says, “Thanks for being chill. And for letting me talk.”

Darnell shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he says. He returns Leon’s soft smile and adds, “But I want to meet this guy sometime. Now that I know everything about him.”

Leon laughs. He squeezes Darnell’s arm one more time and then disappears into his bedroom. Darnell stands in the hallway for a moment longer and basks in the afterglow of a friendship well forged and a crush well killed. Then, he goes to bed.

x

The Leon that greets Darnell in the morning is almost like a brand new person. He smiles at Darnell and hands him a cup of coffee, and then puts a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Darnell when he sits down at the breakfast bar. Darnell pinches himself just to make sure he he’s not dreaming up a scenario where Leon agreed to be _his_ boyfriend instead of telling him about the boy in Nova Scotia.

“You are a good friend, Nursey,” Leon says when Darnell shoots him a questioning look. He just keeps grinning as Darnell methodically powers his way through his breakfast.

And then it hits him.

“You had phone sex this morning, didn’t you?” he asks. Leon doesn’t say anything, but his mischievous grin is enough to give him away. “I hope you washed your hands after,” Darnell mutters, which is worth it just to hear the sound of Leon’s laughter. 

They’ve still got another month and a half left of the season, but Darnell thinks it’s going to be fine. They won’t make playoffs, probably, but it will mean Leon can see his boyfriend sooner, so maybe - just this one time - Darnell will let it slide.

 

**Connor McDavid - 2016/2017**

Connor’s a Drake fan. How can he not be, being from the GTA? So he puts his faith in a rapper and believes that the highly anticipated Summer of Sixteen is his for the taking. Instead, it goes a little like this:

1) He goes to Europe and wins a World Championship, his foot now firmly planted in the doorway of the Triple Gold Club. 

2) He does some traveling and then holes himself up in his new, shiny Toronto apartment and tries to enjoy his summer of training and media appearances where he forces smiles for the camera and tries not to be too awkward.

3) Everyone he meets tells him that he’ll be named Edmonton’s captain in the fall and he tries not to freak out about it too much.

4) His boyfriend breaks up with him.

The last one really throws Connor for a loop. Was he supposed to have seen it coming? Were there signs? In the end, it doesn’t matter. Connor goes back to Edmonton and tries to pretend that the last conversation he had with Dylan wasn’t a screaming match about self-worth and proving oneself in the eyes of the hockey gods. He tells his parents and his teammates that it was amicable, that they’d both thought it would be for the best.

When the Oilers officially give him the C, Connor allows himself to eat one small tub of Ben and Jerry’s while he binge watches an old season of the Bachelor with Darnell and Leon.

“Want me to check him extra hard when we play Arizona?” Darnell asks, trading Connor’s tub of ice cream for a throw pillow that Connor hugs to his chest.

“What? I - no. No, don’t do that,” Connor says sadly. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

Darnell looks skeptical, so Connor turns his head to the other side to catch Leon staring at him like he’s a puzzle that needs to be figured out. Connor feels himself blush and tucks his face into the pillow.

In the end, Connor doesn’t get to find out whether or not Darnell actually listened to him. Dylan gets sent back to Erie the week before the Oilers go to Arizona, which leaves Connor with one less thing to worry about.

Not that he’s still worrying about his breakup because that would be pretty clingy and Connor doesn’t want to be that kind of ex-boyfriend.

“Good thing you’re living with the coolest guys on the team,” Darnell says one day, throwing his arm across Connor’s shoulders while Connor methodically works his way through virtual Coyotes on NHL 17 the day before the game against the actual Coyotes. He doesn’t check virtual Dylan once.

“Leon’s pretty cool, but I don’t know about you,” Connor says. Leon laughs from his perch at the breakfast bar, and Connor feels himself smile when Darnell squawks in protest. 

x

Spending time with Darnell and Leon isn’t bad. It’s probably better, honestly. Leon’s on his wing, or plays as his centre, and they’re on the powerplay together too. Connor tries not to remember a different powerplay unit from years ago.

“You should’ve dropped the puck back,” Leon says in practice, circling around Connor and taking his place for the line drills they’re running. “Where’s your head at today, Cap?”

Connor frowns and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “I’ll be better next time.”

Leon smiles at him, small and fond. Connor’s heart clenches a little. “I know you will be,” Leon says, and gets ready for the whistle. He’s only a year older than Connor but he seems so much more put together. Cool as a cucumber. 

More sure of himself, Connor thinks as the whistle blows and they take off down the ice. Never in anyone’s shadow. Doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone.

Something tiny and fragile unfurls itself in Connor’s chest.

x

Connor’s not very good at flirting. He’s stilted and awkward and out of practice. Or - Brinks would say he never had any practice in the first place. He’d won Dylan over with his hockey first, and Dylan had done most of the flirting from there. 

“Uh, you look good today,” Connor says one day. Leon glances down at his outfit: a ratty pair of sweats and an old Kelowna Rockets hoodie.

“Thanks?” he says, but smiles kindly at Connor. Connor wants to die.

“Are you doing anything today? We could play NHL 17, if you’re not,” Connor tries a couple days later.

Leon shrugs. “We did that yesterday, but I don’t mind,” he says. Connor’s heart sinks.

“Do you want to grab dinner?” Connor asks on their off night in San Jose. His hands feel sweaty and shaky; he’s not entirely sure if he wants Leon to say yes or not.

“Sure. Let me ask the guys if they want to go out.”

Connor’s fingers twitch.

By the time their holiday break rolls around, Connor has no idea what to do. He flies home for the three days, tries not to think about how he and Dylan are in the same city again; how the last time they were here Dylan had yelled, “You don’t get it! You never will!” and Connor had replied with, “Maybe I shouldn’t bother trying anymore!” 

How the last time he was in Toronto he had watched a love he had carefully stoked from a small spark into a roaring flame fizzle out into nothing but ash and regret.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he tells his brother while they’re setting the table for Christmas dinner. Connor has to leave again the next afternoon. “Why is flirting so hard?”

Cam fixes him with a stare that Connor interprets as long-suffering. “I don’t know, man,” he says carefully. “Maybe you should take a break or something. Don’t want you to strain yourself or anything.”

Connor frowns. “I’m not that bad,” he says. 

His brother looks like he wants to make a comment and then decides against it. Instead, he says, “Just ask him if he wants to hook up then. That’s all you’re after really, isn’t it?”

Connor splutters a little. He’s sure his face is as red as the table runner his grandma made a billion Christmases ago. “That’s not really my style,” he says.

“Breaking up with Dylan wasn’t really your style either and yet, here we are.”

It’s a low blow, and Connor can’t help but flinch. Cam doesn’t look sorry. He picks at the corner of the table cloth lightly and then says, “Look. I know you’re still upset about you and Dylan, but I know you. You’re not looking for another relationship right now. If you want to hook up with Leon, fine, but - don’t try to kid yourself that you want a relationship with him.”

Connor opens his mouth and then closes it again. He feels like he’s been slapped.

“It’s okay to not be over it yet,” Cam says softly, and Connor shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he says, but it sounds unconvincing to his own ears. “I’m fine.”

x

When they get back from the break, Connor throws himself into flirting. Just like everything else in his life - school, hockey, sex - he works at it until he’s the best.

He tries to smile more at Leon, even though he hates the way his smile always shows too much of his gums. Leon’s own closed-lipped smile is soft in comparison. Connor tries to do the thing girls are always doing to him at the bar: he touches Leon’s elbow, his wrist, draws attention to himself in ways that Connor normally tries to avoid. Leon’s eyebrows always scrunch together, but he laughs at whatever dumb joke Connor tells him anyway (stolen from Brinks, who’s always willing to tell Connor dumb jokes). He sits close to Leon on the couch, lets Leon pick the channel even though Darnell always complains about captain’s favouritism.

“You’re acting strange,” Leon tells him before Connor goes off to the All Star Game. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Peachy keen,” Connor replies. Leon frowns, like he doesn’t understand the turn of phrase, and Connor vows that when he comes back from the game, he’ll make his move.

x

On Valentine’s Day, Connor backs Leon up against their front door and kisses him.

He’d been working up the nerve for the last two weeks. There was a plan: he’d be suave and cool and casual. Leon would laugh a little at whatever witty thing Connor came up with, and look at Connor from under his eyelashes. Maybe Connor would shiver from the intensity of their chemistry.

Instead, Leon had followed Connor through the front door and said, forlornly, “Valentine’s Day sucks,” and so Connor had kissed him.

Leon doesn’t push him away, but he doesn’t kiss back either. He stays pressed against the door and looks at Connor seriously when Connor pulls back.

“You just kissed me,” Leon says, and Connor would like very much for the floor to open up and swallow him. Or for Darnell to walk through the door and kill the moment. “Why did you do that?”

“Uh,” Connor says. Leon looks like he’s expecting an answer and Connor’s not sure he can give him a good one. “Um. I’m into you?”

Leon looks unconvinced. “You don’t sound sure,” he says, and that makes Connor blush.

“I mean, I am. Into you. You’re stupidly attractive,” Connor says. 

It’s so quiet that Connor could hear a pin drop if they had such things as pins in their household. He hears Leon inhale and then exhale slowly. 

“You are the captain, so I’m not sure how you don’t know this,” Leon says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I like you a lot as a friend, Connor, but I have a boyfriend.”

Naturally. Why wouldn’t someone want to date Leon, Connor thinks.

“ - And you are hung up on a boy that looks like a meerkat.”

“Excuse me?”

Leon smiles, mischievous and sly. “My boyfriend says that Strome looks like a meerkat. I think he is sort of right.”

Connor squawks a little. “He does not!” he says, flapping his hand a little uselessly, like it will emphasize his point. “He’s - “ Cute, Connor wants to say, but doesn’t. Leon arches an eyebrow at him.

“Even if I did not have a boyfriend, you are too sad. I hear he is also maybe sad and missing you,” Leon adds. 

Connor’s heart rate picks up a little. “Yeah?” he croaks, trying not to sound too interested. “From who?”

“Nick Merkley,” Leon says with a shrug. “He’s a nice guy.”

Connor nods. He doesn’t know what to do with the information Leon’s given him. “Um - “

Leon claps a hand on Connor’s shoulder and cuts him off. “He’s doing his own thing,” he says, talking about Dylan again. “Let him be. We have our own stuff here anyway. He’ll still be pining when we’re done.”

“How do you know?” Connor asks. It sounds small and sad even to his own ears.

Leon tugs Connor into a hug. They’re still standing up against the front door; Connor hopes Darnell doesn't come home after all. 

“Just trust me,” Leon says into Connor’s ear. “Like when we are on a two-on-one. Trust me like that.”

When Connor’s on a two-on-one with Leon, he always knows Leon’s going to do the right thing. He trusts Leon blindly, believes that he’ll either finish off the play or send the perfect saucer pass back onto Connor’s tape for the assist on Connor’s goal. On a two-on-one, they’re perfectly in sync.

“Okay,” Connor says, and for the first time all season his heart feels light.

 

**Chance Braid - 2013 to present**

Chance is seventeen and coming off of a rough rookie season when he first meets his husband. Or, the boy who’s going to become his husband, because Chance has never seen a sixteen-year-old as good looking as the one in front of him and Chance is ambitious about the things that matter. Like securing himself a good looking husband. 

The kid is an import draft from Germany and he looks painfully awkward and a little gangly. Chance likes him immediately.

“Welcome to Prince Albert,” he says, throwing his arm around the guy and smiling his biggest and brightest smile. The guy looks at him like a scared baby deer.

“Hi,” he says shyly. Chance is fond of him already. “I’m Leon.”

Leon. Chance has never met a Leon before, which is nice. It means he doesn’t already have some lingering preconception of what Leon will be like. A fresh slate. Chance is all about that.

“I’m Chance,” he says when he realizes Leon is still staring at him. It coaxes a small smile out of Leon, and Chance squeezes his shoulder. “You’ll like it here,” he adds, because even though Prince Albert itself is a little desolate, the guys are good.

Leon’s looking at him with an intensity that makes Chance shiver a little. It feels nice to be at the centre of someone’s attention like this. Slowly, Leon’s smile grows bigger. “I think you’re right,” he says, letting his arm slip around Chance’s waist. “I think I’ll like it here very much.”

x

Leon kisses him at the end of that season.

He invites himself over to Chance’s while Chance is busy packing up his belongings. Some of it he can leave here, but he’d feel bad burdening his billets with too much of his crap. He putters around the room while Leon sits on his bed watching him.

“It’s your draft year this year,” Leon says, and Chance laughs, tossing a shirt into the laundry pile. He’d had a better season than last year, but Leon had still beat him by double in terms of points.

“I’m not getting drafted, Leon,” he says, and when he turns back to the bed Leon’s looking at him with a steely look in his eyes.

“Then next year,” he says. “We will be in the draft together.”

Chance isn’t really sure what’s happening here. He’s been lucky to play for the Raiders the past couple seasons but unless he puts up huge numbers next year, he’s going to be one of the hundreds of players that simply passes through the system and gets spit out the other side. It stings, of course it does, but Chance has known this truth since Leon showed up at the beginning of the season and showed him what real hockey looks like. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, stepping over a large pile of old schoolwork to stand in front of Leon. “Like, I appreciate the faith, but dude. It’d take a miracle to get me drafted.”

Leon makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and looks away. Chance has spent enough time with him over the season to recognize it as a look of frustration over the English language, like Leon knows exactly what he wants to say to Chance in German but doesn’t know how to translate it.

“You are hard on yourself,” Leon says finally, but he still won’t look at Chance. “Why do you pretend that you aren’t good?”

Something like a vice squeezes at Chance’s heart. “I’m not pretending, man,” he says quietly. “I’m a pretty average hockey player. Mediocre when compared to you.”

Leon frowns harder. Chance didn’t think someone’s eyebrows could scrunch together that close. “You are very good,” he insists. “You help me with school, and you always stay late with me to practice, and you make me laugh.”

Before he can think better of it, Chance reaches out and puts his hand on Leon’s shoulder. Leon tenses under the touch, but relaxes after a moment, like he was surprised by the move. 

Chance’s heart is beating rather painfully in his chest. Leon’s a good kid: kind and hard-working but also a little mischievous. He never fails to make Chance smile, whether it’s by giving him a Starbucks before their morning class or for staying up late with him watching movies on the weekends. Chance fell in love with Leon on the very first day they met, but he just never thought that Leon would ever like him back.

“Leon,” he says, quiet. Hopeful. Leon turns to look at him with wide, blue eyes, and then he surges up off the bed so fast they almost bump heads. Chance takes a step back and trips over his gym bag, and despite Leon’s best attempts at steadying him, they both somehow end up on the floor.

“Sorry, sorry!” Leon says. He sounds embarrassed and his cheeks are a mottled red colour from the blush. Chance thinks he looks adorable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chance says, trying to catch his breath. It’s difficult with Leon leaning on his chest, but Chance is okay with it. Seriously. He doesn’t really need oxygen if he has Leon.

“I have never - “ Leon says, then waves his hand vaguely like it will translate the rest of his sentence for him.

“Kissed someone?”

Leon scowls. He looks so cute Chance wants to die a little. But not yet. “I have kissed people before,” he says, indignant, but the bravado falls away a moment later. “I have never kissed a boy before, though.”

Oh, Chance thinks. 

“I don’t bite,” he says quietly, and Leon smiles, bright and happy like Chance has just told him the secret to eternal happiness.

“Not yet?” Leon asks, sly, and Chance can’t help but smile back. He tilts his chin up and Leon leans down to press their lips together. It’s a pretty tame kiss, all things told, but Chance thinks it’s his favourite first kiss ever.

x

Chance is a romantic. He’s optimistic and hopeful, but he’s not stupid. He spent the first two years of his relationship with Leon waiting for the other shoe to drop; waiting for Leon to leave him for bigger and better things.

In a sense, he has. Four years later, Chance’s slogging through his finals out in Nova Scotia (there’s still snow on the ground and Chance is _deeply_ unimpressed) while Leon’s preparing for war. Or playoffs, but that basically equivalates to the same thing.

“Will you come out when you’re done with finals?” Leon asks. They’re on Facetime and Leon’s tying his tie in front of the big mirror over the vanity in his bedroom. Chance wasn’t sure what Leon needed a vanity for until he went and visited and saw all of Leon’s hair products.

“I have summer classes,” Chance admits, “so probably not.”

They don’t say anything about how Leon might be done before Chance, how the Oilers could get knocked out early by the Sharks. 

“You’ll watch the games though?”

“Yeah, of course, babe,” Chance says, and Leon grins at him gratefully. Chance doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like Leon for a boyfriend. It’s only when Leon frowns at him that he realizes that he’d said that thought out loud.

“Uh,” Chance follows up with, intelligently.

“You know I’d pick you over anyone else,” Leon says seriously. Then: “You know I _have_ picked you over anyone else.”

“Uh?” Chance asks, with slightly more intelligence than before. He’s a hard-working university student. Surely there are some brain cells left in his head to rub together for a more coherent sentence. “Oh, like Merks?”

Leon laughs. “That was so long ago,” he says. In truth, it was one of the last times they were actually in the same place together for an extended period of time.

“You mean there have been other people since?” Chance asks. His voice sounds distressingly high.

Leon makes a soothing noise on the other end of the phone. “I mean, people at bars and clubs and whatnot, but also Sasha Barkov.”

“Uh.” Back to monosyllables again.

“Finnish. Plays for the Panthers.”

Chance props the phone against the lamp on his desk and looks up Sasha Barkov on the computer. He bites back a laugh. “Thanks for picking me,” he says dryly, and rolls his eyes when Leon giggles. “Who else?”

“Nursey,” Leon replies immediately.

Huh. Nurse isn’t a bad looking dude, though Chance feels bad for his receding hairline. Still, he’s one of Leon’s best friends in Edmonton, so he figures he should be a little nice.

“And Connor.”

Chance takes a long moment to process the name. Then his jaw drops. “Like, McDavid?” he asks.

Leon rolls his eyes. “How many other Connors do we know on a first name basis?” he asks, but there’s not bite to his voice. Only mild amusement.

“You turned down Connor McDavid for me?” Chance asks. He tries not to sound too gleeful but misses by a mile. 

“He is still too sad about his ex,” Leon complains while Chance is busy letting his ego inflate.

“The meerkat kid?”

“Yes, that one,” Leon says, and Chance snickers. But still - 

“Still,” he says. “Connor McDavid. His hockey. It’s - so good.”

This time, Leon frowns. “What about my hockey?” he asks. For as mature as he looks with that beard, Leon is a surprisingly whiney person. Chance has grown a strong immunity to Leon’s puppy-dog eyes and perfect pout over the last four years.

“Your hockey is fantastic, babe,” he reassures. “You’ve always been the best player I’ve ever played with.”

Leon preens. He glances at his watch and then back at the camera. “I have to go,” he says reluctantly.

Chance nods. He’s used to this, the coming and going, the distance. It’s been tough, but he’s long since accepted that until he’s done his degree, this is how it’s going to be. Even after that, Chance isn’t sure where he’ll end up. Edmonton, he guesses, but he tries not to look that far into the future.

“What’s it going to take to get you to come out when your finals are done?” Leon complains. He’s moving through the apartment now towards the front door. Chance catches sight of Darnell and Connor in the background. They both wave at him.

“I don’t know. Score me a hat trick and then we’ll talk,” Chance says.

Leon purses his lips. “Done,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

Chance is still laughing when he hangs up the phone.

x

Leon doesn’t score him a hat trick that night, but he does score one almost two weeks later when Chance is done his finals and getting ready for summer classes. He gets a phone call at two in the morning from a gleeful Leon demanding his presence at the next home game and Chance doesn’t think twice about agreeing. 

He knows it could be Leon’s last home game of the season, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll book you a flight for tomorrow,” Leon says over the shouting in the locker room. “And I’ll send you the details.”

“Sure, babe,” Chance says with a tired laugh. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Go enjoy the party.”

Leon whoops into the phone before hanging up. For a moment, Chance just sits on his bed, turning his phone over in his hands a few times before getting up and pulling a duffle bag out of his closet. 

There’s a few clothes he can pack now; the rest can wait until the morning. Chance opens up the top drawer of his dresser and throws a couple pairs of underwear into the bag and then pauses, his hand closing around a small box at the bottom of the drawer. He pulls it out, contemplates it for a moment, before tucking it into the bag, wrapped in a pair of socks. It’s been sitting in the drawer for the past year and a half; Chance figures it’s time to give it a new home.

x

Chance is 22 and coming off of his second year of university when he finally asks Leon to be his husband.

**Author's Note:**

> you can sometimes find me on my [tumblr](http://lilcrickee.tumblr.com) and often on my [twitter](http://twitter.com/lilcrickee).


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